Verwandte Artikel zu The Spirit of Music: The Lesson Continues

The Spirit of Music: The Lesson Continues - Softcover

Wooten, Victor L.

 
9780593081662: The Spirit of Music: The Lesson Continues
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593081668 ISBN 13: 9780593081662
Verlag: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2021

Inhaltsangabe

Grammy Award winner Victor Wooten's inspiring parable of the importance of music and the threats that it faces in today's world. 

We may not realize it as we listen to the soundtrack of our lives through tiny earbuds, but music and all that it encompasses is disappearing all around us. In this fable-like story three musicians from around the world are mysteriously summoned to Nashville, the Music City, to join together with Victor to do battle against the "Phasers," whose blinking "music-cancelling" headphones silence and destroy all musical sound. Only by coming together, connecting, and making the joyful sounds of immediate, "live" music can the world be restored to the power and spirit of music.

A VINTAGE ORIGINAL

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Victor L. Wooten is an American bass player, composer, producer, and five-time Grammy Award winner, as well as an original member of the jazz and bluegrass band Béla Fleck and the Flecktones. He is also the author of the parable The Music Lesson: A Spiritual Search for Growth Through Music.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

The First Measure

Parents Know Best

Never say what you’re not going to do because that is your first step toward doing it.

There’s a joke that asks the question: “How do you get a musician to complain?”

The answer: “Give him a gig.”

Somehow, I’d fallen into the trap of disliking most of my gigs, and the previous one had left me feeling a bit unsettled. I didn’t know what was causing it or how to make the feeling go away. I wasn’t sure if it was Music or me who kept refusing to show up.

I knew there had to be more to my musical life, but I didn’t know what more meant or where to find it. After many months of struggling with myself, I decided to turn to the only two people who had always been there for me, who would definitely help me feel better, and who would not allow me to continue lying to myself.

Mom and Dad have always been the fixers-­of-­all-­things. Almost two years had passed since I’d seen them and I was longing for their company. A visit would be good for my soul, and a home-­cooked meal would be good for my stomach. The ten-­hour drive would be good for my mind. Yes, I was running away from something—­something I was trying to ignore—­something I knew I would eventually have to face.

I’d never paid close attention to my alarm clock. It would go off (too early), I would hit it, and keep sleeping. That was the normal routine. But on this particular morning, the harsh sound of the note G repeating in my ear caused me to sit up right away. I didn’t know why I recognized the actual pitch. It had never happened to me before. Regardless, hitting Snooze was not an option. I did not want to hear that sound again. I quickly stopped the alarm and hopped to my feet. A few minutes later, an irritating note emitting from the microwave informed me that my food was ready. The out-­of-­tune C ruined my appetite. I picked up the phone to call my parents. Even the sound of the dial tone irritated me. I placed it back down without making the call. I tried to avert my attention, but my ears acted on their own and my brain colluded by not allowing me to ignore any of the sounds. By the time I made it into the car, musical tones were speaking to me from every direction. Because the car was rented, all the sounds were unfamiliar to me. The fact that I could name every pitch was surprising and should have been a good thing, but I was not ready to listen.

I turned on the radio, hoping it would bring some order to the chaos. Even that became a challenge. The morning cacophony of sounds seemed to be ganging up on me. Every note competed for my attention. I couldn’t make them stop. I felt a headache coming on and turned off the radio, hoping the silence would bring a bit of solace to my journey. It didn’t work. Even the silence spoke loudly.

The tires played a duet with the road; the engine whined a horrible tune, and the wind kept me company by whistling through the window directly into my left ear. Every fragment of noise had a pitch, a rhythm, or both.

Just as I was reaching my peak of frustration, a truck passed by on my left side. A message written on its back grabbed my attention. Nature’s Choice. For some reason, I read it as: Not ure Choice. My brain retaliated. I screamed at the truck.

“It is my choice. You can’t tell me—­”

My eyes fixed the mistake. I felt foolish. Without signaling, the truck merged too closely in front of me. I slowed and regrouped. I took the next exit and parked on the side of the road, not waiting to find a parking lot. I turned off the engine and laid my head on the steering wheel. As soon as I closed my eyes, an unsolicited thought entered my mind: There’s an ear in every heart as it beats in every breath. Listen and be silent. Having no idea from where the thought had come, I listened and obeyed.

“It is my choice,” I whispered to myself.

I sat up straight and made a firm decision. From this point on, I will have a different attitude. I pulled back onto the highway with a smile on my face and a clear head.

This time, what I’d previously considered separate fragments of noise merged into a cohesive coalition of beautiful symmetry. The patterns were intricate and entertaining. The rhythm of the road provided a pulse that complemented all the other sounds.

Once I turned the radio back on, the songs seemed to welcome each extraneous noise, creating thought-­provoking compositions. Even my turn signal had a groove. Changing lanes became a musical adventure. And even though it wasn’t raining, I rode with my windshield wipers on for a few minutes just to experience the complex polyrhythms they added. Music was with me and I was listening. We were both smiling.

Time passed rapidly. I stopped for gas just a few exits from my parents’ home. There, Music didn’t stop speaking. A beautiful tone scolded me for opening my door before turning off the engine, and it was a pleasure to hear that I’d left my lights on. The rhythm of the gas pump added an interesting cadence to the music playing through the speakers at the gas station. Although I liked the song, the harsh tone of the speakers caused it to sound horrible. Why install bad speakers in a public place? I paid for the gas and left as quickly as I could.

My excitement grew as each mile drew me closer and closer to my destination. It had been way too long since I’d seen my parents. I’d finally allowed myself to admit that I needed this visit, but whether I would be completely honest with them was a concern. Either way, dishonesty or half-­truths would never deter my mom. She’d get to the heart of the issue no matter what. She speaks her mind and can see through any façade.

Mom is a wise woman who cares about everyone as if all people were her children. Demanding a hug instead of a handshake, she has a way of making everyone feel welcome. Friends from all around make their way to her home, hoping to gain warmth and wisdom from her words and delicious Southern cuisine. “I’m not telling you this because you’re gonna like it,” she’d say. “I’m telling you because you need to hear it.”

Dad is the hardworking, quiet type. He was in the army and the air force and fought on the ground in the Korean War. Dad is capable of dealing with just about anything. He once told me that growing up in the thirties and forties made fighting in the army seem easy. On a typical day, he would come home from a long day of work, grab a plate of food, and watch television while reading the newspaper. He would quietly sit, seemingly oblivious to all the commotion going on around him produced by a house full of kids and friends. Over the years, I’d never heard him complain about any of the noise. Whenever he had something to say, everything stopped so that we could pay rapt attention.

I’d been thinking about my parents a lot. Many of the life lessons I’d learned from them only became apparent as I grew into adulthood. Gradually, I’d learned to recognize and appreciate the abundant knowledge found in all their sayings. I never enjoyed writing as a child, but increasingly, I’d begun to see the value of taking good notes. Parents know best, I thought. One day, I will write their words of wis­dom down.

They were sitting on the front porch when I pulled up in front of my childhood home in Newport News, Virginia. Their smiling faces, illuminated by the setting sun, were like a dose of good medicine. Dad had parked his car on the street, leaving the driveway clear for me. That’s my Dad. Quiet and thoughtful.

I pulled up...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2021
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593081668
ISBN 13 
9780593081662
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
368
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
preigu
mail@preigu.de

Lengericher Landstr. 19
Osnabrück
49078
Deutschland